The Cutlass
by yeknodelttil
Summary: Sometimes it's better when you understand each other so perfectly. The simple act of giving is never unreciprocated whether planned or not. Based on the season 3 promo pics.


**The Cutlass**

_Author: yeknodelttil_

_Show: Once Upon A Time_

_Rating: K+_

_Genre: Romance/Angst_

_Pairing: Captain Swan_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time. This is purely for the enjoyment of its fans, created by a fan._

_Spoilers: Series 3_

_Summary: Sometimes it's better when you understand each other so perfectly. The simple act of giving is never unreciprocated whether planned or not. Based on the season 3 promo pics._

_A/N: This came to me while strangely enough watching an advert for new Downton Abbey in a few weeks' time; it was the opening line between Mary and the Dowager Countess, which I explain at the bottom but the line was:_

"_You have a straightforward choice before you; you must choose either death or life…"_

_It blossomed and I hope I do it justice._

* * *

In all the sights he never expected to see on his ship this had to rate as one of the highest.

When he'd decided to seek Emma Swan out he'd expected her to be pouring over the charts or logs he'd given her.

Not the sight of Emma Swan working out in the crewman's quarters.

Swan could still surprise him.

His voice was gentle as he spoke, "What are you doing?" The last time he'd said those words they were broken with hurt but this time they had slight mirth in them.

"Getting ready for a fight." She answered her words straining as she lifted herself up slowly, her focus on increasing her upper body strength.

"Strength isn't much use here, lass." He answered. No matter how strong you were it didn't matter if the Lost Boys could use swords. You couldn't get close enough to them; he'd lost too many good men thinking that strength would save them and not skill.

He wouldn't lose Emma Swan the same way.

"The Lost Boys cheat," She threw him a smirk over her shoulder, her eyebrow rising in disbelief, "Worse than pirates." He never cheated though; he took advantage of his other weapon, after all people fought with two swords so why couldn't he fight with a hook and a sword? "You'd never get close enough."

Emma lowered herself to the ground as his words registered inside her, however she wouldn't stop training. She needed the strength in her arms if she were to use a weapon, something she'd have to find straight away.

He pulled a key from his pocket, holding it out to her. The key twirled in his fingers first as though he was considering what he was doing. "What will be of use is in that chest, love." Emma tipped her head in confusion; he pushed the key towards her. There was something about the way he was doing this made her curiosity peak and she took the key from him.

Before lowering herself down towards the small, mahogany chest he'd gestured to and inserting the small, golden key into the lock.

* * *

A resounding click echoed around the small cabin. She heard Hook intake a sharp breath behind her, she wanted to turn around but she wanted to see what was in the chest.

She understood why he wanted her to do this. The lid of the box was bloody heavy, and yes she knew she'd cursed using one of his typical curses but in that moment it was damn well fitting. The lid needed two hands to grip to lift and his hook would have been of very little use.

Inside the chest was something entirely wrapped in black velvet.

She suddenly knew she had to move. They moved simultaneously he moved forwards as she sidestepped, sitting down on the nearby crate she'd climbed on to reach the bar to lift herself up. She saw him crouch down, his leather trench coat flaring out behind him.

Killian slowly unwrapped the item that had lain dormant in there for far too long, allowing the velvet to slip down into the chest. He knew this would be difficult for him but he hadn't realised how difficult.

However deep down he knew he was doing the right thing.

* * *

"Here." He spoke softly, holding the item out to her. She looked at him in confusion before accepting it from him with both hands.

He was offering her a curved cutlass, it wasn't as curved as an Arab sword instead it was more of a gentle curve. The sword wasn't as large as his cutlass but it was bigger than a dagger.

Her fingers closed around the sword, as she tipped it back and forth feeling its weight. It was lighter than it looked.

The scabbard was beautifully decorated, swirling patterns engraved in brown leather, last three inches of the tip was gold. The patterns stretched the whole length of the scabbard reminding her of a beanstalk she'd rather forget. With her thumb she brushed the patterns, tracing them gently over the highly polished surface. It had been well loved.

Half way down the curved scabbard metal links had been soldered on, gold links, links that would attach to a belt. Carefully she withdrew the sword, inspecting it in the dim light.

The blade was just as polished, completely flawless of any marks, not a single chip was present. Her father's sword had been full of chips, multiple battles had been fought with it and it had shown. Damage was always inevitable from clashing swords but this sword was still flawless. The blade had a shimmer to it, an unnatural shimmer. This wasn't forged from steel; it was forged from something much tougher.

The hilt was wrapped in black leather, creating a much more comfortable grip. The pommel was simply gold.

The balance was perfect.

It had been made for a woman.

And Hook was nervous.

She'd never seen him this nervous. Suddenly she understood why.

He saw the realisation in her emotion filled green eyes and an unspoken question upon her soft lips.

His voice was like a gentle breeze, quiet but lingering, "It was Milah's."

The words gusted around the room as he saw her breath them in.

Her eyes flew up to his sapphire gaze; he looked down not wanting to show how much this was affecting him. Showing weakness terrified him as much as it did her.

He hadn't touched his love's cutlass in over three hundred years. He'd slammed it inside the chest and never wanted to see it ever again.

Until now.

Emma couldn't accept his gift, it was too personal. "I can't…" She held it out towards him. There must be other cutlasses on his ship that she could use.

Hook gently pushed it back towards her, "She'd want it to be used." He looked at her briefly, forcing the corners of his lips upwards. "Especially to save your son." The implication of his words went unsaid but not misunderstood.

Especially when she couldn't look out for her own.

Milah had been buried with the cutlass she used the most but she prized this one above the other. This one had been a gift from him, a gift she'd never wanted to damage even though the enchantment on it prevented that.

Milah would've done what she could to help Emma; this would be her way of doing it beyond death. It was one of the things he'd loved about her.

In her eyes he could see she was still reluctant. He implored her to take it, "Please Swan." Never had he uttered those words unless they were in pure sarcasm; however now they were perfect and true. Blood pounded in his ears, growing louder as he waited for her to accept it. Nausea welled inside him as nerves began to best him.

Emma looked at him; he was offering her so much. Never had someone given her something so personal to them. This was one of his only links left to the woman he loved so much. His eyes begged for her to accept it. She didn't deserve something this important.

For him to offer this to her she knew he cared for her, he'd come back after all. He'd offered it to her, not her mother or Regina. He'd only considered her and that told her everything.

If she accepted it then there would be no going back. Accepting it would let him know that she cared for him too and suddenly that thought didn't scare her anymore.

She brushed her fingers lightly against his caressing them softly, he knew her well enough to understand what she meant. His eyes closed in pure relief.

There was one more thing she had to do before she could accept the gesture completely.

"Where's your rum?" She began softly and he looked at her in pure confusion as he reached for the flask from his waist. Emma lowered the blade until it rested on her knees, supporting it.

She took the flask from him, pulling off the steel lid. He'd modernised in Storybrooke, not surprising since his last on had been left at the top of a beanstalk, although it still had a leather covering to it, with an intricate pattern burned into the brown material. With her teeth she pulled out the cork, not wanting to let go of the cutlass should it fall to the floor.

She filled the shot before handing him back the bottle; he accepted it with some confusion. "To Milah." She answered, lifting the shot. He stood motionless, in three hundred years no one had ever toasted to Milah with him. He felt emotions stirring inside him.

He'd offered her something precious and she'd given him something more so in return.

She'd never met her but she was willing to show tribute to her. He didn't dare say anything other than respond to her toast for fear he wouldn't be able to.

"To Milah." He answered before throwing back his head and taking a deep swig from the bottle.

Emma followed his actions feeling the delicious burn of rum as it travelled down her throat. Wordlessly she handed him back the cover placing it back on the bottle for him. She looked at the cutlass and thanked Milah silently for allowing her to use it.

* * *

Emma reached behind her for a strip of worn brown leather that hung from the wall. A belt perhaps from a previous crewman? Emma stood carefully, pushing the belt through the links before attaching it to her waist under his inspecting gaze. It didn't add any weight; in fact it felt as if it weren't there. She touched the hilt gently with her hand, expertly drawing the sword in a fluid motion – more graceful than she'd anticipated it would be. She sheathed it quickly seeing the look of pride and wonder across his face.

"I'll take care of it." She promised him. Milah had loved him unconditionally and with this gift she felt similar stirrings that she couldn't acknowledge just yet.

He smiled softly; it would take care of her as well. "I know." The cutlass had protected Milah well.

"EMMA!" A call drifted from above, carried on the wind. She gestured with her head above deck and he nodded. They still had some way to go before they could go any deeper into their emotions with each other.

Emma gently squeezed his shoulder in thanks and reaffirming her promise to take care of his gift to her. It was the first time she'd gladly initiated any kind of contact with him without her being forced to.

Killian's face lit up in a beautiful smile, one that touched his eyes and made them seem bluer than she could remember. He was letting go of his past, finally letting the crushing weight leave his shoulders. Giving Emma that sword, he felt a sense of relief as if he could finally move on. He'd expected grief which was why he'd hesitated. The sharp stabs of pain. However he only felt elation, his mind calming for the first time in hundreds of years. New emotions bubbling through his chest that he could finally acknowledge without guilt.

He felt something ghost across his cheek, a familiar touch from long ago. As if he was being told he'd done the right thing and it was time to look towards his future.

Emma paused at the door, turning back as she realised he hadn't followed her. "Killian?" She hadn't even noticed she'd used his given name.

He turned, looking lighter than he had in a long time. If possible his smile grew wider at the use of his true name falling subconsciously from her lips like ambrosia. He gestured with his arm for her to go first; after all he was a gentleman. "After you Swan."

She waved for him to go first and he chuckled, rubbing behind his ear.

Some things never changed although this time the mistrust was gone.

As he went to move beyond her he grabbed her hand, allowing their fingers to link together perfectly. The instant she looked into his eyes she understood, a smile full of promises and possibilities blossoming on her face reflected completely in his eyes.

They understood each other perfectly.

They moved forwards together.

The End

* * *

_A/N: I hope you liked it and I hope I did it justice._

"_You have a straightforward choice before you; you must choose either death or life…" I took the quote as meaning Hook has a choice, chose to hold onto Milah or let her rest and move onto life._

_This has been brewing in my head since I saw the promo shots; there were a couple that seemed to have a lot of seriousness in them on Hook's part. I have this feeling it might be Milah's sword or a sword that belonged to Milah, that he gives Emma in the first episode._

_Of course I'm usually wrong._


End file.
